


Judas Had A Problem

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [1]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Jesus Christ Superstar - Freeform, M/M, Unrequited Love, basically a retelling of the 2000 film, or is is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 00:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12144810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: The rating "EXPLICIT" is because of the major character death. It is angsty because my heart needed this and so I had to write it. Basically a retelling of Judas' inner war against himself.





	Judas Had A Problem

Judas had a problem.

Indeed, he had a giant problem, and he had given up hope. For nearly as long as he knew Jesus, he had loved him. Of course, with a man like Jesus that was no wonder; everybody loved him, but Judas was sure nobody loved him as he did. 

It had taken him some time to figure out that his love for Jesus was different from what the others felt for him. He had never actually been in love before then, so when it hit him, he felt completely overwhelmed. Looking back, he should have enjoyed that short period of feeling freshly in love; butterflies, whenever Jesus smiled at him brightly, heart skipping a beat whenever they touched. But he was too busy sorting through all the revelations that by the time his mind settled, he was confronted with the next problem; Jesus would never feel the same about him.

The mere thought sent bitter spikes of jealousy and rage through Judas’ chest. The smiles that had previously brought him the greatest joy, now made him sick, but he fought hard to keep all the thoughts inside, so that Jesus would not notice. And yet he had sensed that something was off. Judas noticed that he tried to spend more time with him, trying to get him to talk about his problems, assuring that there was nothing Judas could possibly say that would ever upset him. But the latter knew better and even though it hurt, closed himself off from Jesus.

His distance however, was the exact reason why Judas did not notice how close Mary Magdalene had grown to Jesus until it was too late. Suddenly, closing himself off seemed like a big mistake, even though he could barely stand the jealousy crashing into him without wincing, every time that woman touched Jesus. He needed to win back his place next to him, no matter the cost. Judas needed those precious seconds of eye contact, in which they seemed to communicate effortlessly without words, Jesus’ soft eyes somehow piercing the carefully erected walls around Judas’ bruised heart, seemingly looking right through him. He needed those fleeting touches, even though he wished for more every single time, letting them linger as long as possible, but carefully so as not to attract attention.

Jesus seemed to have other plans and kept himself closer to Mary day by day; it drove Judas mad with longing. But if Jesus did not want him, Judas could respect that decision. He had to. After all Judas knew that he had not always been a good person, but he also knew that Jesus made him a better man. So, he channelled the comfort of that thought and kept to himself.

It hurt; he had been Jesus’ right hand man from the very beginning of their acquaintance, some chemistry between them had sparked trust and devotion of a to him unknown kind in Judas. He knew fleetingly of Jesus’ self-destructive plans to die for all of humanity, to sacrifice himself for their sins to be forgiven, and he also knew he was supposedly going to play a part in it, but he had never imagined himself misinterpreting the situation so completely.

As Jesus gained more followers, Judas noticed his growing unease. He knew the other man did not like violence or big crowds and he knew he had to do something about it. He contemplated, turning him in to the Pharisees who could hold him for some time, just to take him out of the picture and for the situation to calm down.

So, when Judas overheard Mary confessing her love to Jesus’ sleeping form, that did the rest to convince him to act on those contemplations.

How could he have known that the Pharisees planned to kill Jesus? How could he have been able to make another decision, with his heart ripped apart and bleeding from Mary’s confession? How was he supposed to think straight? It had been impossible. But it should not have been. Judas knew he had not always been a good person, but he also knew that this moment would mark him down in history as a truly bad man. 

As he reached up hesitantly to snatch the silver from Annas’ waiting hand, he knew he had made an unforgivable mistake and when he came back to the camp, he reached for the nearest bottle and tried to drown himself in the fuzzy comfort alcohol was able to provide.

But of course, Jesus could not even let him drink in peace, as he started speaking of death, denial and betrayal over supper. How did he know? Judas barely knew it himself!

The alcohol, the sadness, the anger, the jealousy, the violent rage that had been building inside him, all burst out of him in one angry stream of words; he barely realised that Jesus was not trying to talk him out of this mistake but supporting him. When he did, it only acted as a catalyst for more insults. How could Jesus do this to himself? How could he do this to Judas? How could he possibly know that he was going to betray him, and still be completely oblivious of the love Judas felt for him?

The thought sent Judas to his knees, clutching at Jesus’ legs, as he stammered out the last of his dying stream of harsh criticism and bitter offence between ragged sobs. 

And still Jesus did not shove him away. He did not even attempt to escape Judas’ arms; all he finally did was try and hug the latter closer to him, but no matter how much Judas craved this touch, the twin reasons - that hands coming down onto his head had never been good before, and that he could not possibly let Jesus touch him now that he finally knew what a thoroughly evil man he was - made him flinch and back away to fulfil, what Jesus already knew, was going to come.

The further Judas ran away from Jesus and the closer he got to taking the final step of his betrayal, the more he knew he had to touch Jesus once more before it was too late. And the more he thought about this revelation, the surer he was that at this point nothing he could do would have any consequences anymore. His entire life seemed pointless already, even with Jesus still alive and well. The thought of his betrayal alone made Judas feel empty and hollow, tears streaming down his face as he stumbled through the night, an emptiness that only Jesus could fill and of that Judas knew that he would be stuck with, forever.

His only attempt at soothing this ache even for a small amount of time, lay in this next encounter with Jesus. And so, still out of his head from all that had happened, the adrenaline coursing through him and the faint influence of alcohol, he told the guards that he was going to kiss Jesus to make sure they really had the right man. 

Kissing Jesus had never been an option before. Jesus was a tactile man, a kiss on the cheek was no rare occurrence but Judas needed more. And he would snatch this brief moment, a fraction of a second, for it was never going to last longer, from his fate that seemed insistent on making him suffer.

When Judas returned, the soldiers in tow, he found Jesus hastily drying his own tears, getting up from his knees, and his heart was shattered. Hesitantly he moved towards Jesus, suddenly not as sure about his intentions as only seconds ago. But Jesus did not shy away. In fact, he seemed to lean towards Judas, establishing eye contact, opening his mouth as if to say something and then closing it again, realising there was no need for words. Tears welled up in Judas’ eyes again, tears that he had been so determined to never let Jesus see, but as he looked into the other man’s wide blue eyes, the most beautiful set of eyes he had ever seen, and saw only acceptance there, no anger or remorse whatsoever, sadness, yes, but not directed at Judas. His love welled up in him, sending the tears rolling down his cheeks as he leaned forward to close the final distance between them.

He felt Jesus’ lips against his own, warm, soft, pliant, everything and nothing Judas had imagined them to feel like. He felt the other man raising his arm as if to pull him closer but stopping shortly before doing so, never even brushing the exposed skin of his upper arm, nothing, even though Judas would have gladly taken anything. He had planned to pull back quickly, because he had expected Jesus to just stand there, unmoving. Maybe even jerk back or shove him off. But he had certainly not considered the possibility of Jesus returning the kiss. Those lips moving against his own, telling a story of their own, a story of desperate, unrequited love, that Judas knew all too well. When he eventually pulled back and Jesus gasped in surprise, he was sure he had never heard anything as enchanting. He dared not move, for they stood close enough that Judas could still feel Jesus’ breath on top of his head when he stared at the floor, unthinkingly, unfeelingly, uncaringly and severely overwhelmed by what he had just experienced. 

He watched Jesus’ hands fall back to his sides before the latter almost inaudibly, finally spoke up.

“Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?”

It was then that Judas came back to his senses, realising fully that the kiss had brought as much pain upon Jesus as it had upon himself. He could not help but look up at the other man. Never had anybody seemed more beautiful, or more devastated to him. Jesus’ mouth stood slightly agape, his eyes holding Judas’ gaze as an expression of utter heartbreak crossed his features, that the latter was sure, could be seen mirrored on his own face.

A choked sob escaped him as he realised what exactly he was doing. He had given the soldiers their cue. It was only a matter of time now before they would do their job and take Jesus away from him. Forever. 

Judas did not bother to suppress a desperate whimper as he raised his hands, slowly, craving Jesus’ touch more than anything. Distantly he heard the other disciples stir awake, though it could not have mattered less. Ragged breaths left his throat and the tears just would not stop. Jesus hesitated for a brief second and Judas thought he was going to leave him standing right here and now. But then he could see the understanding and heart-breaking sadness in those eyes and leaned desperately into the touch when Jesus softly caressed his cheeks, before cradling his head and pulling him close, so close, holding his head firmly against the side of his own. Judas could feel the blond locks tickling his face, inhaled deeply, clung to Jesus, his arms wrapping securely around his middle.

Oh, how he had longed to hold him like this; Jesus’ lean frame fit perfectly into him. Jesus laid his other hand securely over the nape of Judas’ neck, caressing the soft skin there.

Surely heaven would feel like this, Judas thought to himself bitterly, not that he would ever know, and as if cued by that thought he felt gloved fingers prying his own apart and successfully loosening his grip around his beloved Jesus. At the same time, another soldier grabbed his upper arm and as soon as he stopped holding onto Jesus he was yanked back and fell against a solid stone pillar. He saw Jesus reaching out for him desperately, crying out at the loss of contact, only for Judas’ grip around his waist to be replaced by that of a soldier who pulled him back until he stopped resisting.

Judas slid down the coarse rock, his legs unable to support him. It was just like him to betray the one person he truly loved only to find out afterwards, that they returned his feelings. Bone-shattering despair left him breathless and unable to move or process what was happening around him until they had already taken Jesus away.

After that the world lay in a haze. Nothing was focused as Judas followed the black-clad crowd to Caiaphas’ residence where he stood among the people, dazed, until Jesus’ familiar voice caught his attention and he ripped through the crowd for a chance to come face to face with him again.  
His train of thought was roughly interrupted by Annas’ obnoxious voice calling out his name in thanks for delivering Jesus to them, followed closely by an invitation to watch Jesus bleed. Bleed!

His hopes were fulfilled as Jesus came up to him, while he was led out of the room. His gaze flickered over Judas’ whole body, lingered on his lips, before he briefly met Judas’ eyes. Even one second was too much; he could not take it. Full of shame, remorse and regret, he turned away. He barely kept it together when Jesus reached out to place a hand against his racing heart and gripped his shirt tight before letting himself get dragged away and leaving Judas wrecked and broken.

Judas knew that if he went away now, he would never forgive himself, he would never know if there was anything he could have done to help Jesus. If he stayed, his agony would likely multiply, but he gladly took those chances, if it meant staying close to Jesus, watching for any chance to rectify his mistakes.

Silently he trailed behind the shrieking, howling mob, as Jesus was brought before Pilate. His head bowed and his posture lacking its usual grace, he crouched against a wall and watched the whole scene play out before him. When Pilate refused to sentence Jesus, Judas could have cried of relief. He had won more time; if only Herod would see the good in Jesus! But Judas knew that this was about as likely as Jesus abandoning his great martyr idea.

Judas kept close to the entrance of Herod’s palace, he was tired, so tired, he could barely keep his swollen, tear crusted eyes open, but his mind raced with regrets of his actions, memories to happiness he had felt with Jesus, even hope.

When he finally detected some movement at the entrance he crept closer, seeing that Jesus still appeared unscathed and that tiny spark of hope in his heart was fed and nurtured into a healthy, warming flame.

Escorting Jesus however were at least half a dozen soldiers, not one of which, Judas could have taken on in his current state. So again, he followed them, with enough distance never to be noticed but close enough never to lose them. When they turned into a narrow alleyway, they stopped, so that Judas nearly bumped into a heavily armoured back upon taking the same turn. Quickly he kept to the other side of the wall and listened. They started talking to Jesus. Harsh words, insults that they thought would affect him, but Judas knew better. How could somebody think Jesus would respond negatively to insults? Often enough Judas himself had made exactly that mistake, so it came as no surprise to him when he never once heard Jesus reply. 

Judas’ mind started wandering, only to be brought back to reality by a thumping sound, followed by a choked moan. Alarmed, he glanced around the corner. They had thrown Jesus against the wall and punched him in the stomach and ribs, kicking him, until he collapsed. Judas gasped out and slapped his hand across his mouth, leaning back against the wall, trying to calm his heavy breathing. He could hear cracking sounds and could not help but watch the horrible scene. They were holding him up by his hair. The man Judas loved so desperately was being physically broken, practically ripped apart and he could not do a thing but cry like a coward and watch in pain and indescribable self-loathing. He had brought this torture, this inhumane treatment upon Jesus in a fit of jealousy and he did not think he could live on knowing that.

When the soldiers finally stopped, Jesus lay on the dirty ground, his robe torn, bruises covering every bit of skin that was visible to Judas. One of his shoulders seemed to be dislocated, his other arm was flung across his face in a desperate attempt to protect his head from the steel capped boots. He could not stay. He could not possibly watch what else they might do to him, and all his rage and pain and guilt was directed at those who had brought this fate upon Jesus.

When he stormed through the doors of Caiaphas’ residence, raging with anger and remorse, he was greeted by Annas, insisting that he had made the right choice. A day ago, Judas had believed him. But now he could not. Judas knew he had not always been a good person, but he also knew that what Jesus had endured already and what he was likely still to endure, was not something that could ever be described as “making the right choice”, no matter if it was the man he loved or anybody else. He realised that the Pharisees would not see that. He realised that the whole situation had only arisen because of himself. He realised he could never make things right now. It was too late. He had to take matters into his own hands.

Thoughts crossed his mind at an alarming rate. With great pain, he remembered the soft smile Jesus would give him when Judas explained his views on a situation especially passionately. He remembered the blue of his eyes, the deep colour that would forever be his favourite. He remembered all the conversations that had lasted until the early hours of morning, when they had been too engrossed in the argument to notice the time. He remembered the softness of his curls that framed his face in the most flattering way, the gentleness of his touch, the calm strength of his voice. He remembered being kissed back and suddenly he broke down, unable to continue his aimless wandering through Jerusalem’s dark streets. He clutched his head in his hands as he remembered Jesus’ lips on his own. If he had only known. If he had only known!

But he had not and now it was too late for him to do all the things that he desired. He felt empty as he remembered how perfectly Jesus had felt in his arms; how fulfilling it had been to feel the man cling to him just as desperately as Judas did to him. Fulfilling and destructive. His whole world had shifted, what had appeared sensible and logical before was in fact utterly wrong, unforgivably so.

Then he remembered the broken, bruised, beaten, bent form on the ground in a dusty Jerusalem alleyway, refusing to talk, to defend himself; refusing in fact to make any noise, but being in such great pain that he just could not suppress the whimpers escaping his lips. And Judas wanted to cry. The feeling of guilt, remorse, deep unforgivable sadness paired with his shattered heart was overwhelming his senses. He felt the world around him go past. He did not know what was happening, the only thought on his mind was paying. Suffering for what he had done out of spite and jealousy, for all the wrong reasons. Paying for what he had done, when he himself would have condemned anyone doing the exact same thing. That was why they would forever hate him. 

They would love Jesus. With Jesus that would not be a wonder; everybody loved Jesus. And even those who now wanted him dead would soon see their mistake and love him again, Judas realised with surprising clarity.

But him, they would hate. They would remember him, yes, but they would remember him for all the wrong reasons, for all his mistakes and flaws. The would condemn him, hate him, blame him.

But at that moment Judas was not bothered by that, for nobody could hate him more than he himself already did. 

The next thing he knew was standing on a fence next to a tree, rope around his neck, tied securely to a thick branch, and for the first time in a long time he felt at peace. This was the right thing to do. Nobody wanted him here, nobody needed him here. And he had nobody left for he had dedicated his last years completely to Jesus. He was alone.

And then he took a step forward. 

The drop was not long enough. He wished nothing more than for it to finally be over. He could not take any more of the agonising emotional pain but this, his own strangulation, sent him into a panic he was unable to escape from.

Judas wanted to scream. He could not. He had no strength. He had no air. He tried to move but the rope only tightened around his neck. 

Soon.

He began to see flashing lights. Some kind of ringing sound came up in the distance. As it came closer Judas knew. 

It was over.

And then Judas felt himself sinking into the loving embrace he so craved


End file.
